Compromised
by ginny-go die in a corner
Summary: Faced with the sudden realization that he might be gay, Harry devises a devious plot involving three brown hairs, a broomstick, a locked trunk, Polyjuice Potion, and a blonde-haired Slytherin to test his theory... HPDM LEMON with a twist. NOW EXTENDED!
1. A Fine Predicament

a/n: My second (and last) challenge fic for Cuban Sombrero Gal's **Five Things Challenge** in the HPFC forum. (There's a link on my profile if you wanna give it a shot!) Based on the idea "Five Times Harry Potter Said 'Yes' When He Should Have Said 'No'."

I promise, this one will be significantly brighter than my last one -_-^ (If your brain needs refreshing or you have no idea what the bloody hell I'm talking about, check out _Coping_. Quite frankly, I'd appreciate more reviews… I know, I'm such a whore.)

Once again, five chapters, to be completed over the course of five weeks, updates every Saturday.

Warning: HPDM slash (with a twist!), LEMON/LIME, language, Pansy being a bitch as usual…

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

"_Harry… Harry, wake up!"_

_I stirred, startled awake from the only good dream I've had in months by firm hands shaking my shoulders._

"_Ginny… Is that you?"_

_I reached out to my nightstand to retrieve my glasses, but instead of brushing my fingers across the wooden tabletop, I felt her cool skin as she enveloped my hand in hers._

"_I can't seem to get to sleep… Can I sleep with you?"_

"_Sure, I guess so."_

"_Great."_

_She slipped under the covers almost as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Her back pressed against my chest and she sighed contentedly._

"_I feel like I belong here…"_

"_In my bed?"_

_She shrugged._

"_Well, I was thinking more along the lines of 'I feel like I belong with you', but your bed works too, so long as you're in it…"_

_I could feel her smile radiate through her skin. And as I wrapped my arms around her body, I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't feel the same way._

XXX

"Are we still on for tonight, Draco?"

Pansy's voice oozed seduction, the meaning of her words practically dripping from the finger she used to trace patterns across Malfoy's back.

Malfoy hunched forward, his backbone making slight impressions in his uniform shirt. "You know it," he drawled as Pansy's fingers made their way to his chest. She hugged him as best as she could with a desk in between them, and then released the blonde.

Pansy turned to her tablemate, who was, Harry had to admit, one of the few attractive Slytherin girls, and pushed aside her golden blonde hair to whisper in her ear. Harry could only make out a few words from his desk across the aisle, but he could fill in the blanks.

"Draco said… tonight… Room of Requirement… hot body… _huge_… so ready."

She concluded her with a giggle, and her friend responded likewise, although it was obvious to anyone looking closely enough that the gleam in her eye was jealousy, not excitement. As Pansy went back to scribbling on a piece of parchment, Harry saw the other girl's eyes flicker over to Malfoy and a quiet sigh escaped her pouting lips.

Harry's attention turned toward Hermione, who sat behind the pair listening as if she couldn't help herself. She looked stricken; her face wan and her eyes wide under a forehead creased with terror. She glanced over at Harry with those big, horror-filled eyes and mouthed,

"Help… Me!"

Harry had to hide a snicker behind his hand as Hermione, seeing he would be of no service to her, turned forward again, arranging the book she was reading so that it blocked her view of everything in front of her.

Two desks up, Malfoy was leaning in towards Blaise Zabini, his hands out, fingers making the quintessential right-forefinger-goes-into-circle-made-by-left-thumb-and-forefinger gesture. Blaise nodded his approval with a tight-lipped smile before going back to the book he was taking notes from. Malfoy sat back in his chair, obviously pleased with himself.

And why shouldn't he be? Harry wondered bitterly. He was about to fuck the easiest girl at Hogwarts, maybe the whole of Britain. With her face, she'd have to be easy because there was no other way she'd get it. But from Malfoy… Well, Harry had expected a little better.

"Lucky bastard…"

Ron had seen fit to awake from his usual study hall period slumber and was regarding Malfoy with a touch of awe, a touch of envy, and a touch of anger at himself for having such reverent feelings about Draco Malfoy.

Harry shrugged and said pompously, "If you ask me, I'd say he's being kind of whoreish."

"Oh, this coming from a bloke who has random girls crawling into his bed on a nightly basis?" Ron's eyebrows shot up in a knowing look and disappeared under his messy fringe.

Harry paled. "So you heard that…" Ron nodded, a smile slowly creeping its way onto his face.

"Well, don't get too excited, Ron. It was just Ginny and she couldn't sleep, so I let her bunk with me for the night."

His smile slipped easily into a grimace and his hands tightened around the corners of the book he was supposed to be reading but had been using as a pillow during the last few periods.

"No worries, nothing happened. She fell right asleep."

Ron snorted. "I bet she did…"

Harry shrugged again and left Ron to his fuming. What good did it do to lie about it?

Ginny would have had sex with him last night if he had asked, but to be honest, the thought never crossed his mind, though it might have crossed hers once or twice. There was no need to squirm against someone for as long as she did _just_ to get comfortable, Harry was sure.

But wasn't that what was supposed to happen? Wasn't he supposed to fall in love with Ginny Weasley and her beautiful pale skin and soft, red hair and the freckles on her stomach that he liked to connect with invisible lines drawn with his fingertip? Wasn't he supposed to marry her and become an official member of the Weasley family like he had wanted since his first trip to the Burrow?

Ron's feelings about boys looking at his baby sister and Hermione's dislike of misogyny aside, Harry tried looking at Ginny in every possible way, just to be sure of his feelings. As a guy, as a friend, as a brother, as a lover, as everything he could possibly imagine, he still ended up with the same answer: He just didn't love her like she loved him.

To put it bluntly, though Ginny was fairly well endowed, she lacked a certain other… endowment that Harry preferred.

Harry shook his head. He was still pretty uncomfortable with the whole Hey-I-Might-Be-Gay! thing, as the only clue he had to go by was getting turned on when he watched some of the better-looking players on the Gryffindor Quidditch team shower. And maybe that was natural, who knew? Harry had never had a father to help him through tough times like this. But he didn't know whom he could go to without _someone_ making a big deal about the whole thing. He could just see it…

If he told Hermione, she would be shocked at first, of course, but then she'd have the best time fixing him up on dates with suitable males and trying to include him in "Girl Talk" with her and Luna. If he told Ron, he would most likely turn green, then faint, then wake up saying that he never wanted to look at Harry again and how he'd always wondered about that time when gnomes got inside the Burrow and the family had slept outside in tents and he and Harry had been forced to share a sleeping bag. And if he told Ginny, well, she'd try to be supportive, but he knew the news would devastate her and ruin all her carefully constructed plans for their future, because Harry was, after all, supposed to spend the rest of his life with her.

The best thing to do was keep pretending and maybe one day, after he'd married Ginny and they'd had a few kids, he'd realize that he made the right choice staying quiet and that it had been just as he'd suspected: A faze.

Harry stared blankly twirling his quill in one hand and resting his chin in the other.

"Just what are you looking at, _Potter_?"

Harry's attention snapped to focus with a shake of his head.

Malfoy glared at him, his lip curling back into a sneer like a dog would raise its hackles.

"Nothing."

* * *

Good? Bad? Remember to REVIEW!!! See you next Saturday...


	2. A Brilliant Plan

A/n: Chapter 2 of 5. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Cookies to those of you who figure out Harry's plan…

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

* * *

"_Harry, are you okay?"_

"_Hmm?"_

"_Well, you just seem a bit preoccupied…"_

"_Do I?"_

"_And you haven't touched your lunch."_

_Hermione gestured to my uneaten sandwich nestled in a bed of crisps that I had only shuffled around my plate to give the illusion of having eaten some._

"_I'm just not hungry. I'm fine, really, Mione."_

_I managed a smile that she didn't seem satisfied with._

_She reached across the table and took my hand in hers, stroking it in that motherly way she has that is sometimes infuriating, but more often than not comforts me in a way she'll never know.  
_

"_Is there anything you need to talk about?"_

"_Yes…"_

_Hermione looked at me expectantly and I shut my mouth. I have her an embarrassed laugh and gently pulled my hand away._

"_I mean… It's stupid. Now's not really the time…"_

_I shook my head and stood from the table, banging my knees on the edge as I did so. I winced._

"_Well, when you're ready…"_

_She looked a bit putout as she watched me leave the Great Hall._

_I think she worries too much._

XXX

Harry was halfway down the corridor by the time he heard the portrait to the Gryffindor common room swing shut behind him, such was his hurry to get outside. If he was lucky, he'd have just a little over 45 minutes- the rest of lunch- all to himself. He hoisted his broom over his shoulder as he quickened his pace.

Flying always helped him think. Everything seemed clearer the farther away he was from it. And there was nothing better to cheer him up like a game of catch the Snitch. Maybe some of the other guys would be using their lunch period to practice too... Harry's spirits grew considerably, as did the bulge in his pants, but he quickly reprimanded himself and the traitorous organ by thinking of McGonagall in a unitard. :shudder:

He sighed. Maybe he shouldn't have run away from Hermione's line of questioning after all. He definitely needed to talk to someone and she was by far the best option… Maybe he should just turn around and-

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a feminine squeal and a rather large object as it crashed against his chest, sending Harry and the person he had collided with to the floor in a heap, his broom trapped between them.

"Do you even _look_ where you're going? Or do you just walk, hoping that everyone will move out of your way?" spat an angry Pansy Parkinson as she desperately tried to get as far away from Harry as she possibly could, but, to her dismay, found that her hair was hopelessly tangled in the bristles of his broom. "Clumsy git…" she whined as she gingerly tugged on her hair.

"I'm not clumsy," Harry retorted as he wrenched his broom away from her, earning him a howl of pain and a glare from the Slytherin as she rubbed her scalp where the hair had been pulled. "I'm just uniquely coordinated. Besides, _you_ ran into _me_."

"Don't start with me, Potter," Pansy warned him as she jumped up and dusted off her skirt haughtily before hitching it back up to its original height a good five or so inches above the knee. "Not even _you_ can make this day bad for me." She smiled her smug little smile that reminded Harry so much of a dog Dudley had once had but then accidentally killed by overfeeding.

Harry stood and, ignoring her comment, said; "I think you've crushed my broom under your immense weight…" He inspected the wooden handle with concern and didn't even notice the indignant gasp and foot stomp that Pansy gave him before she stalked past him on to some unknown destination.

He chuckled to himself and then righted his broom. That's when he noticed the three short brown hairs twisted around a group of bristles. They waved in some unseen wind as Harry stared at them.

His lips turned down at the corners as he reached out to pluck them from his broom and throw them to the floor, but as he pinched the threadlike filaments between his fingers, he got an… (well, maybe not amazing, but certainly an interesting) idea…

XXX

After keeping watch of the corridors outside Snape's dungeon classroom for a good twenty minutes, Harry was relieved to see the greasy Professor exit his room in a flourish of inky black cloak and even more relieved to see that he left the door open as he glided down the corridor away from Harry.

As soon as Snape was out of sight and the echoes of his footsteps had died behind him, Harry squeezed out from his hiding place in an alcove behind a rusty suit of armor that had thus far proven useful in blocking anyone standing in the farthest corner from sight.

Checking the corridors once again for possible witnesses, Harry made his way over to the slightly ajar potions class door and slipped through, leaving no trace he was ever there at all.

Once inside, he set to work quickly and methodically, as he had no way of guessing when Snape would return and had always lacked the foresight of having his invisibility cloak when he really needed it.

"_Alohomora," _Harry whispered, tapping his wand sharply against the brass doorknob of the potions closet. The door sprung open silently and Harry stepped through after looking furtively over his shoulder.

No matter how many times Snape forced him to catalogue and clean the potions supply room during Harry's almost weekly detentions, Harry could never quite get his bearings on the room. For one thing, the closet was actually much larger than the outside suggested, easily fitting two or three of the potions classrooms inside it. And the amount of… _things_ inside was enough to give anyone's head a turn.

There were floor to ceiling shelves for white powders, blue powders, itching powders, wart powders, powders made from other powders, herbs, flowers, roots, mushrooms, mosses, dirt, dust, sparkly dust, syrups, jellies, creams, salves, rocks, stones, horns, fangs, venoms, poisons, cures, antidotes, anti-fungals…

Everything but the one thing Harry needed, of course.

A shuffling startled Harry as he roamed the tiny aisles between the shelves, straining his eyes in the dim light to read Snape's immaculately minuscule scrawl. The Gryffindor spun around to face the door, wand at the ready.

"It's too bloody dark. No wonder Snape's eyes are so beady. I'll bet anything he spends half his time scurrying around here in the dark."

There was another shuffle as two people carefully navigated their way around the initial clutter of the door.

Harry ducked down behind a shelf labeled "Ageing Potions," trying to hide his entire body behind a few tall, but unevenly spaced, cardboard boxes and watched with bated breath.

One of the intruders sighed loudly and dramatically. "You complain far too much. Just get what you came here for so I can leave."

Harry recognized the lightly accented voice as that of Blaise Zabini, meaning his partner in crime must be none other than-

"Draco!" Blaise said sharply, startling both Harry and the blonde-haired Slytherin, who dropped the glass Mason jar filled with what appeared to be kidneys pickled in formaldehyde he had been studying with a scheming smile.

"Fuck, Zabini!" Draco cursed, jumping back from the jar's spilled contents and knocking over a few more items from the shelf behind him (a shriveled hand and a rack filled with test tubes marked with blood types and one with the ominous word "cerebral") with his flailing arms. "Ugh! It smells!" he whined, throwing an arm up to cover the lower half of his face.

"Don't worry, I've got it." The tone of Blaise's voice suggested that he was used to cleaning up Malfoy's detritus and did so with an unwilling loyalty. He waved his wand and the mess was gone, the jar of organs and other various body parts and fluids back in their proper places on the shelf marked "Human." Blaise strolled purposefully past his companion down the aisle.

Harry was forced to reposition himself as Blaise passed closely by him, hunkering down to nearly ground level to avoid being seen by the two Slytherins' roving eyes. His glasses threatened to slip off his nose, which was now beaded with perspiration from the effort of maintaining the contortionist-like positioning of his body, and he pushed them back up his face with a forefinger.

Malfoy snickered as he came up behind Blaise. His gray eyes scanned the shelves lazily as he straightened his collar. "There's no need to rush the job." He picked up a beaker of purple syrup, swirled it, and then replaced it after finding it not interesting enough to hold his oh-so-valuable attention. "I exploded a toilet in the third floor prefects' bathroom. Snape should have his hands full for a while."

Malfoy laughed to himself, while Harry breathed a silent sigh of relief knowing that Snape was nowhere close to returning anytime soon. Blaise just rolled his eyes and continued searching the shelves, muttering under his breath, "Some prefect you are…

"Here it is!" Blaise said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. He plucked a corked vial of clear liquid from a rack of identical potions. Gray smoke collected in the empty space between the meniscus and the cork as he shook it. "Contraception Potion."

Malfoy snatched it from his hand greedily. "Great. The last thing I need is that bitch getting pregnant," he muttered crossly, giving the vial a grateful nod as he tucked it carefully into his pocket.

Amused, the other Slytherin chuckled once in the back of his throat. "But I thought it was your goal in life to breed perfect, little, pureblood babies!" Blaise said sarcastically, batting his thick lashes and clasping his hands together before him.

Malfoy sneered, but ignored his comment. "For one so concerned with leaving, you sure are taking an awfully long time just standing around being a pain."

With that, the pair turned and left, satisfied and finished with their daily dose of sneaking.

Harry counted to twenty, then, when he was absolutely positive they were gone, stood, his knees creaking painfully. And of course, as soon as he stood, he was eye-to-eye with what he had gone in there to find in the first place: Polyjuice Potion.


	3. A Midnight Tryst

a/n: Chapter 3 of 5, a day early because of the holiday! And the plot thickens, as does… erm… something else… :blush: And for those of you who haven't figured out Harry's plan, I hope this makes it _painfully _clear. :P

Thanks for all the reviews so far!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

"_Harry, mate… Are you doing… _homework_? On a _Friday_?"_

_I looked up from my book rather guiltily, but not because I was doing my Charms homework on Friday, the most sacred of weekdays, in Ron's opinion. I gave him a shrug._

"_And what if I am?"_

_His eyes went wide and his nose scrunched up in that way that Hermione thinks is so adorable, but she'd never admit it out loud. I think it looks like he's inhaling a nice nose-full of dung and I think more people would tend to side with me on that one._

_He shook his head._

"_Well, there's a party in the Hufflepuff common room tonight and I thought you could be my date."_

_Ron's eyebrows wiggled and I laughed, but secretly I was thinking about how I'd never date Ron simply because I'd want people to think I had better taste… Well, that and the fact that I'm _not_ gay… I don't think…_

"_I think I'll pass, love."_

_He made a face._

"_What, you have plans or something?"_

_I didn't answer._

"_Oh, so you _do_ have plans…"_

_I gave him another halfhearted shrug and a small smile._

"_I get it. So long as those 'plans' aren't with my sister, I'll keep it hush-hush."_

"_I'd appreciate that, Ron."_

_He gave me a wink and turned to leave, but stopped, his hand on the door._

"_If you change your mind, the Hufflepuff password is 'Cedric'. Just yell it at the still-life portrait near the kitchens. The bananas are a bit hard of hearing…"_

"_How do you know the password to the Hufflepuff common room?"_

"_Oh, it's been 'Cedric' ever since he died. It's a nice gesture, though a bit stupid, since everyone knows what it is."_

"_Maybe they trust people not to break in"_

_Ron looked at me the same way he did back when we were first years and I knew absolutely nothing about the wizarding world. I hate that look.  
_

"Never_ trust people, Harry."_

_And with that grave statement, he left the room whistling a cheery tune, shutting the door behind him. I went back to pretending to read my Charms book, but really I was rubbing the bottle of Polyjuice Potion (with three brown hairs freshly added) in my pocket and waiting for the clock to strike eleven.  
_

XXX

The Gryffindor common room was absolutely deserted, for which Harry was grateful. If there had been someone in there to lie to, there was no telling the reasons he might have given as to why he was wearing one of Hermione's skirts and Ginny's infamous "leaves nothing to the imagination" sweater. Lying under pressure was never one of his strong suits, which made Harry exceedingly grateful for Hermione's well-attuned bullshitting skills.

But Hermione wasn't around to save him this time. She was probably in a corner of the Hufflepuff common room nursing a Firewhiskey like she enjoyed it and pretending that everyone around her was childish and asinine, but secretly wishing that she had the courage to just go and grind with Ron on the dance floor. Yep, that sounded just about right.

Harry gripped the handle of his broom tightly in his sweaty hands and spent a few moments studying his reflection (or lack thereof) in the mirror over the Gryffindor fireplace. He pulled at the bottom of his invisibility cloak once more, just to be sure that his stockinged feet would be concealed as he walked and the broom didn't cause a shimmery bulge in the fabric.

With a determined exhale of breath, Harry opened the portrait hole and stepped into the darkened corridor confidently…

XXX

Where all that aforementioned confidence went once Harry was in sight of the Room of Requirement, he didn't know, but he missed it sorely.

He tapped his fingers on the broom handle nervously and slowed his pace, trying to find new and previously unexplored reasons as to why what he was doing was wrong, morally and anatomically.

How was he supposed to know what time Pansy and Malfoy were meeting? It was just naïve intuition that told him midnight was correct. He'd never had any past experience that would support his theory that sex was better at twelve o'clock than it was at one, or even two, and three _was_ the witching hour…

What if he got caught loitering in the corridor by a professor, or more importantly, by Malfoy? What if Pansy didn't show up? Or what if she and Malfoy were already inside? What if the potion wore off before he could enact his plan? What if it wore off while he was in the process of... enacting? What if his plan backfired completely? What if he pulled it off and it turned out he wasn't gay? What if it turned out he was?

And perhaps the most important question of all: What did it feel like to be a girl? He felt entitled to know what he was getting into, seeing as he was already wearing the skirt and all. Harry shuddered to think that this would be his first sexual experience and he wasn't even going into it with the correct equipment.

Harry stopped just outside the door and listened intently at its wooden surface, but, of course, he couldn't hear anything because he didn't know exactly what he should be listening for. The Room was finicky like that.

He had just begun to admonish himself for his rash behaviour and had all but turned around and gone straight back to the Gryffindor tower when he heard the shuffling of someone's feet on the stairs and a hollow _thunk_ coupled with a muffled curse as whomever was sneaking around in the dark stubbed his or her toe on a stair.

Harry's heart sped with adrenaline as Pansy-who else was so ungraceful?- approached him, her hands out and sweeping the immediate area before her. His stomach gave a sick lurch as her fingers inadvertently brushed against his crotch.

"_Lumos_!" she whispered with an exasperated sigh, the end of her wand igniting just inches from Harry's face and causing the Gryffindor to take a step backwards into the wall and the tapestry behind him. Pansy eyed the swinging adornment with suspicion, but did nothing more than that.

With a toss of her hair, she turned and proceeded to pace back and forth before the door to the Room of Requirement, excitedly mumbling, "I need a place to be alone with Draco," under her breath.

_It's now or never_, Harry thought as he threw the invisibility cloak from him in a grand sweep while blindly swinging his broom at Pansy's head as hard as he could, praying he'd make contact.

The handle smacked her soundly on the temple and she fell to her knees before sinking to the carpet like a breaching whale into the ocean.

Chest heaving as if he'd just run a circuit of the Quidditch pitch, Harry stood directly over her, brandishing his broom just in case she decided to move. She didn't.

Harry felt silly straddling her prone body like that whist wearing a skirt, so he moved to one side of her, placing his broom on the floor. He took both her wrists in his hands and pulled hard, sliding her across the carpet with extensive difficulty to the other end of the corridor where, luckily, there was a wooden chest that would suit her perfectly.

After hoisting Pansy's body into the chest and seriously rethinking the whole skirt business, Harry hurried back to his abandoned broom and, after a few moment's consideration, decided to stow it in the trunk along with the unconscious Pansy Parkinson and his glasses, after muttering a quick temporary vision charm, of course.

With all that done, Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew the Polyjuice Potion, now a lovely slime green colour since the addition of Pansy's hair, and uncorked the bottle. He sniffed at its contents. Wet dog.

Pinching his nose shut with his thumb and forefinger, Harry downed the potion in one swallow, trying to ignore the milky feeling of Essence-of-Pansy running down his throat. He smacked his lips and grimaced at the bottle before corking it and returning it to his pocket.

First, there was the tingling. Harry had been expecting that. And then came the concurrent lengthening and shortening of his body. He grew shorter, but his torso became longer and fuller and his hips rounder beneath Hermione's skirt.

His hands flew eagerly to his new chest. Where Ginny's sweater had once hung limply on his frame, it was now filled to bursting with boobs. Harry gave them a curious squeeze and was alarmed to find them somewhat sensitive. He rubbed his now-hard nipples crossly, reluctant to check on the other parts of his new anatomy.

The tingling stopped almost as abruptly as it had started and the change was complete. Harry wished he had a mirror, but knew time was short. The Polyjuice Potion was only effective for an hour or so. Sex couldn't possibly take longer than that, Harry reasoned. He could only hope that Pansy remained unconscious during that time.

Harry then continued what Pansy had started.

"I need a place to be alone with Draco," he said with her voice, the normality of it surprising him somewhat. So the ditz business _was_ just an act. Wait until he told Hermione…

Harry cleared his throat with a feminine cough. "I need a place to be alone with Draco…" He concentrated on opening the door to find a room lit with millions of floating candles, casting soft shadows on the pale, naked body of Draco Malfoy, who lay on a king-sized bed of red-no, green- satin sheets…

"I need a place to be alone with Draco," he finished somewhat breathlessly, feeling a damp spot grow in his underwear. Stupidly, he wondered if girls had the same trouble as guys concerning premature ejaculation, but was too embarrassed to find out for himself. This was, after all, a borrowed body and looking would be highly impolite.

The door to the Room of Requirement swung open, quelling all his nervous thoughts.

* * *

a/n 2: I know, I'm such a bad person for making you wait. Trust me, next week will be worth it! Remember to review! Ta!


	4. A Compromising Outburst

A/n: Chapter 4 of 5 a.k.a. The Chapter You All Have Been Waiting Oh-So-Patiently For!

Warning: SLASH with a twist of LEMON!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

* * *

_"There you are, Pansy. I've only been waiting for forty-five minutes! What took you so long?"_

_My mouth went dry at the sight of him. _

_Draco Malfoy stood leaning against a bedpost, his arms folded across his bare chest and the button of his linen trousers undone, carelessly exposing his green boxers. Shadows flickered across his pale skin like flames and I felt a stirring in that place between my legs that wasn't so unlike the stirring I normally felt.  
_

_I jumped as the door shut loudly behind me and then disappeared into the wall ominously.  
_

"_Umm…"_

_I ran my tongue over the inside of my teeth anxiously._

"_I w- wanted to make sure I looked perfect for you, Draco."_

_He strode over to me, grabbing my hands as he stared into my eyes hungrily. A wolfish grin spread across his lips that were now so close to my own, I could practically taste them. His breath smelled faintly of cinnamon._

"_And you do look perfect…"_

_With a slight tilt of his head, his mouth was on mine, my malleable lips forming against his and moving as he moved. My insides fluttered. His lips were soft. It was a lot like kissing Ginny, but about a billion times better because it felt _right_._

_Malfoy pulled back.  
_

"_As perfect as you'll ever look…"_

_My dreamy smile faltered slightly, but I quickly recovered with an undeniably Pansy-esque giggle-snort. The real Pansy probably wouldn't have noticed the backhanded compliment. Or maybe she wouldn't have cared in this particular situation.  
_

"_Are you ready?"_

_His hands squeezed mine gently._

"_Of course."_

_Malfoy led me further into the room with a charming smile and like a sheep to slaughter, I followed blindly.  
_

XXX

The floating candles of Harry's imagination were nonexistent. The main source of sensual lighting for the room was an iron chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling and numerous artful sconces at regular intervals along each wall. The firmly rooted candles dripped red wax like blood as the flames flickered evilly and cast sinister shadows around the room. A fireplace took up most of the far wall, and before it, a snow white rug that had once served as the skin of some animal lay snarling. A mirror of massive proportions hung above the mantle in an ornate frame. Harry noticed that at that angle, the mirror would reflect the bed...

The bed... Harry's eyes followed the line of the mirror to the center of the room where a large four-poster bed stood alone. A canopy of gauzy black fabric draped over it gracefully, the sides tied back with black, velvet ribbons. The sheets weren't green, as Harry had expected they would be, but ivory satin. Harry swallowed thickly as he studied the downy-looking pillows from across the room. He wondered if he could get over having sex in a bed that reminded him of an oversize coffin.

"Champagne?"

Malfoy dropped Harry/Pansy's hand and gestured towards an uncorked bottle in a bucket of ice on a table near the door. The ice shifted noisily as he lifted the bottle and looked at Harry fervently. Two long-stemmed, crystal glasses appeared on the table beside the bucket as Malfoy's hand reached down, his eyes never leaving Harry's.

"Oh, I don't drink," Harry said by reflex with a dismissive wave.

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. He lifted the two glasses by the stems and held them dexterously between his long fingers and poured the shimmering liquid with ease, not spilling a drop. "That's not what I've heard…" He took a step forward and held one of the glasses out to Harry.

Harry stared at the glass with mounting apprehension. It didn't look particularly lethal, but for Harry, Malfoy might as well have been handing him a loaded gun. Among other things, Harry was cursed with an inconveniently low tolerance for alcohol. Just one shot of anything stronger than Butterbeer could have Harry dancing on tables in under five minutes.

"Well, I mean, I don't drink _anymore_… It's unladylike." Harry gave him an indignant sniff to show Malfoy just how serious he was.

The Slytherin's eyes flashed dangerously. "Please. I insist," he spat, trying to maintain his light tone and easy smile that might have fooled the real Pansy Parkinson, but not the more observant Harry Potter. And though Harry was loathe to admit, Malfoy looked particularly attractive in his ferocity with his jaw set and eyes flashing.

With a defeated sigh, Harry took the offered glass and held it tightly by the stem. He watched as bubbles rose happily from the curved bottom of the glass to the surface and then hopped up into a light fizz that tickled his nose.

"Cheers," Malfoy said stiffly, clinking his glass against Harry's and then putting his lips to the rim and wetting them, but not really taking a drink.

Harry watched him curiously before a thought came to his mind...

_"The last thing I need is that bitch getting pregnant…"_

"Contraception Potion," Harry muttered, frowning into the glass.

"Excuse me?"

He shook his head and looked back up at Malfoy, trying to make himself look as stupid and unsuspecting as possible. "I said 'Thanks for the champagne'." He grinned and then, with some hesitation, tossed back the glass and drank its contents in one swallow. His throat burned and he couldn't stop a painful grimace from forming on his face.

Malfoy chuckled patronizingly as he placed his still full glass on the table where it had first appeared. "Not used to the expensive stuff, are we, love," he said, gently taking the glass from Harry's hands and setting it next to his.

"No, guess not…" Harry croaked. His stomach fluttered as the potion-spiked champagne hit his gut full force.

"Don't worry about it," Malfoy cooed as he pulled Harry to him, firm body pressing against Harry's new feminine curves. His hands found their way to Harry's buttocks and rubbed, inching up his skirt a centimetre with each stroke. Harry flushed.

"You'll become accustomed to the finer things in time." Malfoy continued, unaware of Harry's embarrassment. He forced Harry closer to him roughly as his lips captured Harry's once again in their cinnamon-laced embrace.

Harry's humiliation faded. His eyelids fluttered closed. _Bloody fucking Merlin, I'm snogging Draco Malfoy... _His hands clutched Malfoy's neck. Winding his fingers in the feathery soft hairs at the nape, Harry twisted and pulled in his urgency to get closer, earning him a sharp nip on his bottom lip from a displeased Malfoy.

"Watch it, Parkinson," he snarled. "I've told you before, I have a sensitive scalp."

Spiritedly, Harry lunged forward again, ignoring Malfoy's complaint, and attacked his face before the deliciously vicious expression could fall from his lips. Their tongues twisted together nimbly, each fighting for control of the other's mouth. Malfoy won with another bite to Harry's lip that sent shivers down the Gryffindor's body and caused him to moan in the other boy's mouth and return the affectionate punishment to Malfoy's own lip.

Malfoy pulled away and held Harry close to him, his hands still cupping the boy/girl's arse. "That sweater looks familiar..." he mused, his eyes roaming from Harry's face to his chest where the fabric had slipped a little to show more of Harry's breasts than any female would be comfortable with. "If I remember, the Weaselette has one exactly like it."

Harry quickly masked his panicked expression with one of distaste. "Well, I got this one _way_ before she got hers," he spat. "She copied me."

"Good thing too. She's got a bloody fantastic body. No sense in hiding it under her usual ill-fitting second hand garbage."

Malfoy leaned down to kiss Harry once more, but Harry turned his face away, shrinking in Malfoy's arms and suddenly painfully aware of the burning insistence with which Malfoy fondled his arse with experienced hands. _Pig,_ Harry thought bitterly.

Hot lips brushed against Harry's cheek before traveling down his jawbone. "Something wrong, love?" Malfoy drawled. "I haven't offended you have I?"

"No," Harry whispered quietly, his body reacting to Malfoy's meaningless words in ways Harry wished it wouldn't. Pig or not, Harry's sex drive apparently didn't seem to care and that happened to be the only thing moving him at this point. If it weren't for Malfoy's arms holding him up and Harry's desire for the other boy's touch, he would have fallen to the floor ages ago.

"How careless of me," Malfoy went on as if he hadn't heard. He removed his hands from Harry's arse just long enough to pull the sweater off over the Gryffindor's head before Harry had the mind to stop him. The sweater fell to the ground at Harry's feet and he stared down at it. Well, he looked down with the _intention_ of staring at it, but instead got distracted by the two glorious new additions to his chest.

Harry's hands flew to his breasts and took one in each hand, giving them each a little jiggle in turn. "Woah," he breathed, amazed at the sheer _weight _of them. He had no idea how girls could stand something so cumbersome jutting from their chests at all times, even if they got a girl some much needed attention from the opposite sex.

"No bra?" Malfoy sounded surprised, dubious, and annoyed all at once. A graceful eyebrow arched as he studied Harry's bare skin.

Harry wanted to smack himself in the face. How could he have forgotten the most important thing in a girl's wardrobe? Although, admittedly, it was hard for him, being a male and therefore having no use of the uncomfortable garment, to remember the existence of bras. Unfortunately, Malfoy remembered their existence, as he had had more experience in dealing with them.

Suddenly, Malfoy's face expanded into a mischievous grin. "I like it. Makes things go quicker, don't you think?"

Harry wasn't given the chance to respond. Malfoy's lips were on him again, exploring the delicate indentation at the base of his neck and rapidly moving downwards. Harry's hands clasped together around the back of Malfoy's head, careful not to pull his hair this time. He didn't want the other boy to stop for anything.

"Ahh!" Harry gasped as his back arched, pitching his chest forward into Malfoy's face. He could feel the smirk against his bare skin as the Slytherin flicked his tongue across Harry's pert nipple again before sucking it into his mouth with another groan from Harry.

Malfoy's hands traveled down Harry's sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He paused and gripped Harry's hips to still them. Harry hadn't even realized he had been bucking into Malfoy, but stopped at the sudden touch with a brief blush of shame.

Harry felt Malfoy slip his impatient fingers into the waistband of his skirt and took a step back. Malfoy stared at him questioningly. His lips parted to speak, but Harry silenced him with an impish smile of his own as his fingers moved to unzip the hidden zipper in the side of the skirt. The skirt slipped from his body and fell to the floor in a puddle beside the discarded sweater.

"No bra and mens' underwear... My, my, my, aren't we the little exhibitionist?" Malfoy remarked casually enough, but Harry could tell that he knew something was definitely amiss. Harry's heart skipped a beat. He could only hope that the thought of someone impersonating Pansy with a Polyjuice Potion was the farthest thing from Malfoy's mind.

Harry looked down at his white and red briefs as best as he could from around his seemingly massive breasts. He was shocked to see a perfectly flat front, the evidence of his arousal invisible in this new body. Shrugging, he looked meekly at Malfoy from under his lashes and gave him a sly smile. "I think it gives me a certain edge," he remarked offhandedly. "More of an... _enigmatic _air."

Malfoy stared at him skeptically. "Such big words you use! Are you sure you're feeling well?" He placed a cool hand against the fevered skin of Harry's inner thigh.

Harry spread his legs slightly, and then, without thinking, covered Malfoy's hand with his own. "You tell me," he breathed as huskily as he could manage with Pansy's supersonic voice. He slid Malfoy's hand up to the cotton crotch of his briefs and pressed down, confused but satisfied by the feeling the pressure gave him.

With a growl, Malfoy pushed Harry backwards. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the casket-like bed and buckled, making Harry fall to the plush comforter with a surprised grunt.

"Ah, fuck, Pansy," the Slytherin said maliciously, giving the caught zipper of his pants a jerk. The fabric ripped and the zipper flew loose. "Fuck!" Malfoy shouted again, except this time, Harry was relatively sure the expletive was directed at his pants. Harry wasted no time in eagerly helping the blonde out of his ruined trousers and tossing them across the room to discourage Malfoy from putting them back on.

And then came the moment Harry had been waiting for and dreading at the same time. In each sweating hand, he gripped a handful of the ivory comforter. His eyes trained on the crotch of Malfoy's Slytherin green boxers from which would spring the answer to Harry's dilemma in just a few short moments.

"Get on your knees," Malfoy commanded and Harry complied eagerly. He fell to his knees as Malfoy walked around him until he stood before Harry with his back to the bed. A quick nudge of Malfoy's thumbs against the elastic band of his boxers and the fabric slid down his legs, his arousal right at level with Harry's face.

A sensation rolled through Harry as he ogled Malfoy's half-hard member and he could have sworn he felt the stirrings of a phantom dick in his briefs, as strange at that seemed. _Point proven... _Harry thought to whatever Fates might be laughing at him at that moment.

"Well, don't just stare at it." Malfoy sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, his hands planted on either side of him and scowled down at Harry.

"Oh," Harry muttered stupidly before taking the other boy into his mouth. But once it was in there, what was he supposed to do? It was too late to spit it out now. He tried to remember what Lavender had told Hermione once when she thought no one was listening to their conversation.

_"You suck on the head lightly at first."_

_"Just the head?"_

_"Mmhmm, and then you work your way down until you can't take any more. But I don't have to worry about that; Ron is so small..."  
_

"Damn, P-Parkinson... Is even p-possible y-you've gotten worse at g-g-giving head?" Malfoy said between ragged breaths.

Harry glared up at him and took him in further, increasing the suction around Malfoy's swelling dick and bobbing his head. The blonde gasped and lifted up off the bed, shoving himself into Harry's awaiting mouth. He bit his bottom lip to keep a cry from escaping, drawing blood. Harry moaned at the sight, the noise sending heavenly vibrations up Malfoy's length.

"Pansy, I'm gonna..."

Harry's head bobbed faster and Malfoy came hard with a groan into the Gryffindor's mouth. Harry swallowed every drop, trying not to gag and trying to look pretty while doing it, which was difficult enough to begin with considering what he had to work with was the face of Pansy Parkinson.

The satisfied Slytherin fell backwards on the bed with a contented sigh. A hand reached up to swipe at the blood on his chin then fell back to his side as if the movement had exhausted him.

After a moment of consideration, Harry crawled his way up Malfoy's sweat-slicked body, leaving soft kisses along his torso from his navel to his neck. His breasts pressed uncomfortably against Malfoy's toned chest, but Harry refused to re-situate himself out of fear that Malfoy would push him off. Harry could feel Malfoy's dick against his inner thigh and, taking the chance, rubbed it against his skin with a keening noise.

Malfoy, instantly hard again, smiled down at Harry. "Since when do you swallow?"

In response, Harry bit down on his pale collarbone and sucked, delighting in the little shiver that ran through Malfoy's body. "I'm full of surprises, Draco," he mumbled against the blonde's skin.

"Indeed you are..."

Malfoy wrapped his arms around Harry tightly and rolled so that Harry was now on his back, and the other boy was hovering over him and staring at him intently. Harry strained his neck to reach Malfoy's lips but was stopped by a disgusted frown from the latter. "You should have thought about that before you swallowed, love," he said, smirking.

Harry huffed indignantly, but couldn't stay disappointed for very long. Malfoy's nimble fingers ran down Harry's stomach towards his underwear. There was a brief moment of panic where Harry could have sworn that his own throbbing dick would pop out as soon as Malfoy touched the lightweight cotton. But it didn't and Malfoy slid his briefs down without incident and threw them over his shoulder.

Harry learned two very important things as he stared down at his crotch in horror:

The first was that Pansy didn't shave.

And the second was that he, Harry James Potter, was most _definitely _gay and there were no doubts about it.

"Are you ready?" Malfoy asked quietly.

Harry's eyes flew to the boy who was staring down at him lustfully and at his prick, which was poised to enter a hole Harry was entirely unfamiliar with and therefore uncomfortable using. The apparent sincerity with which Malfoy posed the question almost made Harry forget that he had been such a git earlier.

"Since I'm in the mood for giving surprises," Harry began, his voice trembling. "How about going lower..."

Malfoy's eyebrows bunched, first, confused by his partner speaking at all when Pansy usually just grabbed him by the arse and shoved him in without giving an answer. And then the meaning of the second thing Harry had said hit him and his eyes widened.

"You're sure?"

Harry nodded, a smile forming on his lips. "Positive."

A sudden movement at the head of the bed caught the attention of both boys and Malfoy lunged forward to a table that had appeared next to the bed, almost kneeing Harry in the face. Harry craned his neck to see (and to avoid flying limbs) what had gotten Malfoy so excited.

Malfoy twisted the cap of the small bottle of lube he now held in his hand and straddled Harry again. The cap flew from his fingers with a flick of his wrist and hit the wall behind him. "I fucking love this room..." he muttered with a smile and a shake of his head as he applied a generous amount of lube to his member, then threw the bottle in the same general direction as the cap.

"Flip over."

"No."

Malfoy frowned at him, his cobalt gray eyes narrowing in confusion.

"I want to look at you while we-"

"Fine," Malfoy interrupted sharply.

He lifted Harry's legs, bending them at the knees and positioned himself at Harry's entrance, pressing lightly. He smiled as Harry's breathing sped in anticipation.

"Oh, Merlin, just do it!" Harry groaned, gripping the comforter for dear life and squeezing his eyes shut.

Malfoy appeased the squirming Gryffindor by forcing himself roughly into Harry's warmth with a groan as the tight ring of muscles constricted around his manhood.

Tears eked out the corners of Harry's eyes. The feeling of having something so large inside him was foreign and painful. A whimper escaped his pursed lips that begged Malfoy to keep still.

Mercifully, Malfoy remained motionless, waiting for Harry to get comfortable. He said nothing, just stared down his partner with lust-filled eyes. After a few moments, he began to thrust into Harry at an agonizingly slow pace, his hands on the boy/girl's hips to help bring him as far out as possible and then ease back in teasingly.

Harry winced and opened his eyes, turning his head so he could watch the pair writhe together in the mirror, Pansy's creamy white skin paling in comparison to the shocking luminescence that was Draco Malfoy. With his eyes, Harry traced the finely toned muscles of Malfoy's back and the curve of his firm arse as it moved against Harry rhythmically. He was beautifully angelic, even in the throes of passion with an almost sneer gracing his lips and a fine sheen of sweat breaking out on his brow. Harry wondered how it was that he had known this glorious boy for almost eight years and not once had he realized how undeniably handsome he was. Malfoy hit a particularly sensitive spot and Harry let out a moan, watching and loving the way his partner fucked him slowly.

"I'm not stopping..." Malfoy warned through clenched teeth.

Harry turned away from the mirror. "I don't want you to stop." He released his death-grip on the comforter and held onto Malfoy instead, lifting himself up off the bed and pressing the two closer together, his nails digging into the skin on the other's back. "I want you to go faster," he whispered seductively in the blonde's ear.

Malfoy obliged and began to pump into Harry with abandon, taking his weeks of pent up sexual frustration out on Harry's virgin arsehole. He gasped as Harry bit down hard on his neck, then released the reddened skin with a hiss.

_"Fuck yes, Draco!"_

As the sibilant sound snaked past Harry's lips, the hot air leaving trails of fire on Malfoy's glistening skin, he climaxed, moaning as he felt Harry's arse grip his cock.

"HARRY!" Malfoy screamed, before collapsing on the confused boy/girl underneath him.

* * *

a/n 2: Keep an open mind. Though Harry looks like Pansy, his thoughts and feelings are still his own. So it doesn't really matter what body he's in when Malfoy shags him. All that matters is if he likes it or not…

Review please, and next week you'll be rewarded!


	5. A Startling Admission

a/n: Chapter 5 of 5! A little angst at the beginning, but a happy ending! Wooo! A day early because my internet is broken and my friend has graciously let me steal hers.

OMFG I saw HBP at midnight on Wednesday and it was BLOODY FANTASTIC!! (Ron will always be my favourite, but Draco is slowly making his way up the ranks...)

Oh and btw, I lied when I said that this was my last Five Things Challenge fic. I'm planning one more based on 'Five Things Bellatrix Taught Her Nephew' tentatively titled _Atrophy_, so keep a look out for that in the near future.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but if I did, I'd be one rich muthafucka.

* * *

_Oh..._

_Did he..._

_Did he just...  
_

_Scream my name... _My_ name?_

_Yes.  
_

_I glanced quickly towards my chest. Through Malfoy's fine hair I could make out the heaving mounds of skin and I knew the potion was still in effect._

_So why, then?_

_Why, if not in surprise or anger, did he scream _my _name?_

XXX

Malfoy's head snapped up; the sticky sound of his cheek separating itself from Harry's sweaty bosom was the only sound in the room. A delicate blush tinted his steadily paling skin. His lips, swollen and ravaged by his partner's smothering affection parted and a pink tongue slipped from between them to swipe at the bruises.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows and gaped down at the Slytherin draped across his naked body. "Did..." Harry paused, commanding his words to arrange themselves to form a coherent sentence with a quick cleansing blink of his eyes. "Just now when you... Did you say 'Harry'?"

The blonde forced a chuckle from those battered lips and shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous. I said 'Pansy.' Of course I said 'Pansy'."

"Are you sure?" Harry pressed, his speech accelerating to match the pace of the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Because I could have sworn I heard 'Harry'."

"Yeah, well..." Malfoy rolled over so that he was no longer laying on top of the Gryffindor, but beside him sprawled out on the crumpled satin sheets. "You heard wrong." He glared up at the black canopy as if he were trying to burn holes in the fabric.

Harry turned to face him, moving his arms so that one supported his weight and the other crossed his frustratingly protrusive chest, his fingertips just perilous inches from Malfoy's. "I don't think so, Draco," Harry whispered, aching to reach out and brush the unsuspecting digits.

The Slytherin aimed his venomous gaze at Harry, his lips curling back into a grimace of anger. "I'm not... _gay_!" he spat before turning away and moving himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, his fine-fingered hands running through his hair, disheveling it further. "It was a slip of the tongue," he murmured almost to himself. "Don't read too much into it..."

Harry shifted towards the other boy and laid a reassuring hand on his back, not quite knowing what to say and still drunk of off champagne, sex, and shock, but wanting desperately to make contact. _To tell him who I really am..._

Malfoy flinched under the unexpected touch, but bore Harry's hand on his skin as if it was his duty to endure whatever loving gestures were bestowed upon him. There was no emotion on his drawn face and it was reflected in the mirror across the room for Harry to see.

"Don't tell me that I can talk to you," Malfoy said suddenly, raising his eyes to meet Harry's in the mirror.

"But you can," Harry said hurriedly to Malfoy's reflection. He squeezed his shoulder. "I'm here for you, Draco." Malfoy made a face and Harry wished he hadn't spoken, as he had obviously said something wrong.

"Don't pretend like you're so committed to me, Parkinson. I know you'll go right to Blaise when we get through here and Merlin knows who else after that."

Harry had the sense to look embarrassed, though he only had a vague understanding of what Malfoy was telling him, and removed his hand from the other boy's back reluctantly, placing it under his own chin instead. Harry wished he could say something, anything, but it didn't seem like Malfoy would listen: He was staring at his reflection and shaking his head as if disgusted.

"Why do we pretend, Pansy?" Malfoy asked, twisting around to face Harry, who remained silent. "Why do you pretend to love me and why do I pretend to love you?"

Harry cleared his throat, finally, after enduring a few moments of scrutiny under Malfoy's stare. "I don't know."

"I know why... It's because we're _supposed _to love each other." Malfoy grabbed the back of Harry's neck and gently ran his fingers up through the brown bob. Harry shivered, suddenly reminded of the fact that he was naked in bed with Draco Malfoy and, aside from being a little cold, was perfectly comfortable.

"I'm supposed to marry a pureblood witch," the blonde continued, still rubbing at the back of Harry's head in slow, soothing circles. "I have to continue the Malfoy line. I can't be gay." He stopped and pulled his hand away to pat at his own hair, trying to smooth it down some to no avail. He gave up after a few seconds with a sigh of defeat and let his hand fall to his side.

Harry stared at Malfoy's hand gathering the courage to just wind his fingers through it. He traced the fine lines across Malfoy's palm timidly with his forefinger, working his way upwards. "But are you? Gay, I mean." Harry held his breath and dared not look at the Slytherin's face, so he looked at his hand, pale like the rest of his body, but rough with callouses from Quidditch.

He felt Malfoy's hand twitch with the shrug that rippled across his broad shoulders. "I don't know. I've never been with another man..." Malfoy paused and looked down at Harry with a halfhearted smirk on his lips. "But I do entertain notions about fucking the innocence out of one Harry James Potter."

The brunette's eyes widened in shock and he gawked at Malfoy in disbelief mixed with just a hint of surprised happiness. Of course, Malfoy could only see the skepticism in Pansy Parkinson's face.

"Do what you want with that little bit of gossip," he said with a wave of his hand. "I really don't care."

Harry pulled himself together enough to close his mouth and mumble, "I'd never tell anyone, Draco."

The blonde snorted and rolled his eyes. "That's a laugh."

He stood and bent to retrieve his boxer shorts from the floor at the foot of the bed, giving Harry ample time to ogle Malfoy's arse, which he did without restraint.

"Stare while you have the chance, Parkinson," Malfoy drawled as he slowly pulled the boxers up his legs to cover his exposed skin. "This is it for us, I think."

Harry scrambled into a sitting position, arranging the sheets around him to cover the monstrosity that was the female genetailia. "What do you mean?"

Malfoy laughed and strode over to Harry. He stroked Harry's cheek with the back of one hand and angled his chin upwards with the other. His lips pressed against Harry's chastely. "I mean, why pretend anymore, Pansy, now that we can both admit the truth?" he mumbled against Harry's mouth. They kissed once more before Malfoy pulled away and summoned Harry's clothes into a neat pile on the bed beside the Gryffindor.

"It's time to get back," Malfoy said, indicating the clock that had suddenly appeared on the mantle above the fireplace with a nod of his head. "Blaise will be missing you." He turned around and pretended to occupy himself with yet another glass of champagne that he wouldn't drink and Harry took that as his cue to get dressed, which he did with as much speed as he could manage, barely getting both arms into his sweater before he was out the door, his skirt falling down around his ankles.

The door to the Room of Requirement sealed shut behind him, blending seamlessly into the wall of the seventh floor corridor.

Harry stooped to regain control of his unruly skirt and eyed the door warily, waiting for Malfoy to emerge himself, but he didn't, and with a sigh, Harry returned to the trunk.

Upon lifting the lid, the Gryffindor found Pansy still unconscious and snoring softly. With a smile, Harry reached inside and retrieved his broom and invisibility cloak before closing the trunk and throwing the cloak over his shoulders as he made his way silently down the corridor away from the Room and towards his bed where he could think over the night's events in solitude... Well, until Ron came bursting in drunkenly and tried to slur his way through a blow-by-blow of the party that Harry had missed.

Why had he spent so much time angsting over this plan? It went flawlessly! He hadn't been discovered and all the answers to his problems appeared to be solved. And maybe, just maybe, sometime in the future he could tell Malfoy what he had done and maybe the git wouldn't hate him so much after all. Maybe, he'd feel the exact opposite of hate... Harry couldn't bring himself to say the word; it was too good to imagine.

It wasn't until Harry was getting dressed the next morning and the Polyjuice Potion had long since worn off that he realized his glasses weren't in their usual place on his bedside table...

XXX

"Looks like someone feels better," Hermione noted casually with a small smile. She reached out towards the plate of bacon to grab another piece, but her hand made brief contact with Ron's, which was aimed in the same direction for the same purpose. Both Gryffindors blushed matching shades of red and mumbled quick apologies before returning their respective hands to their laps and avoiding eye contact.

Harry felt nervous laughter bubbling in his stomach and fought to keep calm as he smeared jam on a scone. "Yes, much better... How was the party?" He shifted on the bench and winced as a shooting pain erupted from his tailbone and traveled swiftly up his spine. Luckily for him, neither of his friends seemed to notice, as they were both looking intently at their food.

Ron's blush intensified while Hermione's face paled considerably. "Just fine!" she said in her high, pinched voice that obviously meant she was hiding something. Harry's eyebrows raised.

"Where are your glasses, Harry?" Ron mumbled into a goblet of juice. Hermione nodded her approval at the change of subject and went back to spreading egg yoke across her plate with her knife.

Harry gave them a measured shrug. "Must've left them somewhere... It's fine really; I just keep having to cast temporary vision charms until I find them..."

Hermione opened her mouth to offer her friend a bit of helpful advice, but her words became trapped somewhere between her throat and her mouth by the sudden appearance of Draco Malfoy at their table looking impeccably dressed and quite alone; Crabbe and Goyle were still seated at the Slytherin table and watching their leader from across the room.

Malfoy laid a hand on Harry's shoulder, causing him to jump and drop his knife and scone simultaneously. "Potter, I need to see you out in the corridor..." he breathed against Harry's ear, sending an anxious shiver up the brunette's back. The hand contracted around Harry's shoulder forcefully, commandingly. Harry had no choice but to stand and follow Malfoy doggedly from the Great Hall under a dozen pairs of curious eyes.

Ron, momentarily forgetting his inebriated ramblings of the previous night, in which he confessed his undying love for Hermione Granger, turned to face the bushy-haired Gryffindor. "Is that vision charm of his wearing off, because Harry just walked away with Draco Malfoy..."

XXX

Harry stopped just outside the double doors and stood obstinately, his arms folded over his chest. "What is this all about, Dra-Malfoy?" he corrected quickly with a scowl.

"Not here," the Slytherin hissed through clenched teeth, grabbing Harry's upper arm tightly as his eyes swept the corridor for people. He led Harry into an unlocked and rarely used classroom and released his hold on the other boy before drawing his wand and casting a locking charm on the door.

Harry rubbed his bicep where Malfoy's grip had undoubtedly left bruises. It was a wonder that that was the very same hand that Harry had laced his fingers through the night before.

The blonde turned and faced Harry, a strange and unreadable expression clouding his angular features. "It's a funny story, Potter. Just the kind of thing I think you'd like... Sit, please." Malfoy made a gesture with his wand and Harry was slammed down into a chair, clenching his eyes shut with the sudden shockwave of pain delivered to his arse and biting his bottom lip to keep from crying out.

Malfoy's expression became smug and a smile teased at the corners of his lips. He "hmm-ed" in the back of his throat once before pacing purposefully back and forth before Harry, who was still twitching in discomfort. "Early this morning, I was sitting on the couch in the Slytherin common room and, surprisingly enough, in walks Pansy Parkinson." He leaned down and exhaled, showering Harry in a breeze of cinnamon and pumpkin juice. "Why is that so surprising, Harry? Do you know?" he asked, the resonance from his voice making Harry's lips tingle.

"No," Harry said softly, tilting his head and forcing their lips a fraction of a centimetre closer.

The Slytherin didn't move for a long moment, but then pulled away, startling Harry back into his chair with a twinge of agony from his abused muscles. "It's surprising because I had been with Pansy for quite some time before her entrance into the Slytherin common room, and yet when I asked her about it, she had no recollection of anything after dinner last night."

"Oh..." Harry breathed, apprehension flooding his body. He stared up at Malfoy and he knew that _he _knew, and the feeling was terrible. All at once, Harry wanted to apologize, flee, and scream that it had been the best night of his short life, even if he had spent it wearing the skin of an unattractive skank. But he remained seated just staring and his cheeks burning.

"And the funniest part, Harry, is that when she awoke in a large trunk on the seventh floor sporting an ugly lump on the side of her head, she found _these _beside her..." Malfoy pulled Harry's glasses from his cloak pocket and held them out for Harry to take, which he did after a slight pause. "Isn't that funny?"

"Hilarious..." Harry muttered as he shoved his glasses into the breast pocket of his uniform shirt, not bothering with the bulky frames for the time being because the vision charm he had cast before breakfast was still in effect.

Malfoy bent down again, planting his hands on the armrests on either side of the chair Harry occupied. "It was you, last night in the Room of Requirement. You had Polyjuiced yourself to look like Pansy so you could sleep with me..." Harry nodded apologetically.

The other boy's eyes narrowed and Harry steeled himself for the yelling and hexing to begin, but instead, he whispered one word: "Why?"

"I-I..." Harry stammered. It all made sense in his own head, but it was one of those things that would disintegrate against the logic of the real world once you said it out loud.

Without another thought, he crossed the space between the two and pressed his lips against Malfoy's, just long enough to answer the Slytherin's question. Harry smirked at the bewildered look on Malfoy's face.

"Draco, I think I might be gay..."

* * *

Well, now that it's all over, lemme know what you thought (in a lovely review, of course)! And another thing: I was toying with the idea of writing a oneshot companion piece to this about Ron and Hermione's night at the Hufflepuff party... Good idea? Bad idea?

Ta!


	6. A New Outlook

a/n: 6 of 5?? I wasn't originally planning on continuing this, but I got so many reviews asking me to update with Draco's reaction and who am I to disappoint my readers?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

_"What are you getting at, Potter?"_

_"What?"_

_"You're really..."_

_"Gay..."_

_I nodded and Malfoy's - I should probably start thinking of him as "Draco" - face sagged. He looked decidedly unhappy and moreover confused. My breakfast turned in my stomach. Had I really expected anything different from him? I kept thinking of what he'd said: '_But I do entertain notions about fucking the innocence out of one Harry James Potter...' _If he didn't really feel that way, why'd he say so?  
_

_I instantly regretted telling him. I wish I could take it all back and return to hating him. It was much simpler that way.  
_

_"You're gay..."_

_He took a step back and exhaled, running a hand through his pale hair and trying to avoid my eyes. Little did he know I was trying to do the same by studying the side of my trainers where the sole was tearing away from the upper.  
_

_"Yes."_

_Draco sighed and backed away, leaning heavily on a nearby table. He put his hand down but immediately picked it up again, inspected his palm, then wiped it on the front of his robes before placing his hand in his lap instead. I could see the hand print he had made in the dust on the tabletop and I concentrated on it._

_He stared at me._

_"Just tell me that this is all part of some intricate plot to humiliate me."  
_

_"It's not a plot... I-I... really like you! I didn't mean for it to turn out this way." _

_He shook his head._

_"I just wanted to see... and I heard about you and Pansy and... God, you're so beautiful, I don't know why I never realized it before."_

_"But... I'm... I'm not..."  
_

_I wanted to scream at him and tear his clothes off and fuck him against the table._

_Instead, I stood and kissed him again._

XXX

When Harry first felt the pressure of Draco's hands on his chest, he thought the other boy was trying to bring him closer, not push him away. It wasn't until Harry's back was against the opposite wall and Draco was wiping his mouth with the sleeve of is robe that the Gryffindor realized what had happened. Draco's molten silver eyes flashed dangerously.

"You were just using me to test the waters, is that right? And now that I've figured you out, you think you can just... smooth this all over with your adorable stuttering and unnecessary flattery and... and by _kissing _me?"

Harry growled. "No, you stupid git! Haven't you heard a word I've said?" Draco glared at him, his mouth pressed into a firm, hard line and Harry sighed. "Yes, it started that way. I needed confirm my feelings and you and Pansy were there, broadcasting your sexcapades in front of the whole class. I thought it'd be easy. If I didn't like it, then I wasn't... well, you know..."

"I supposed you liked it then or we wouldn't be in quite the same position we're in now..." Draco mused quietly. Harry nodded in agreement, thinking that if he had said anything different, Draco probably would have killed him.

"But you could have used _anyone_!" The Slytherin said suddenly, startling Harry out of his contemplative stupor. "Even _Weasel_, for chrissakes. I'm sure he'd go for it, the way he pines after you, follows you around like a dog. Although, I never pegged you as one who'd fancy a redhead." Harry got the distinct impression that Draco was talking about Ginny more so than Ron, but he ignored his urge to go off on a tangent about his love for Ginny; because Harry did love her, just not in the way everyone expected him to.

"You didn't..." Draco sighed and turned away from Harry, biting his bottom lip nervously. It seemed to take an age for him to steel himself for what he was going to say but when he opened his mouth again, he kept his eyes averted from Harry. "You didn't have to trick me like that. If you'd have asked, I'd have probably gone for it." The Slytherin exhaled and seemed to shrink; he was no longer leaning upright against the table, but rather slumping over and staring at the floor, his hands uselessly gripping the table edge just to give them some place to be.

Though Harry knew it was probably the worst possible time to laugh, he couldn't stop himself from doing just that. He let out a loud, agitated guffaw that seemed to have been trapped somewhere in his chest since he had woken up that morning. Harry felt lighter after it, but he could tell that Draco wasn't as amused.

"Now comes the part where you tell me this was all a joke and your fan club jumps out from behind the furniture and yells 'surprise,' is that right?" he spat, his pale face reddening with a combination of chagrin and anger.

Harry instantly sobered. "Do you really think I would Polyjuice myself to look like _Pansy_, of all people, to fool you into having sex with me-" Draco shuddered like Harry had just uttered Voldemort's name instead of the word "sex"- "_just _to laugh at you? I'd say that's more embarrassing for me, especially since I bottomed..."

Surprisingly, Draco's frown melted into something that could be called a weak smile. "I suppose that's true..." he mumbled, giving Harry a hollow and highly unconvincing chuckle. "But the fact still remains that I had... sex with my enemy." All traces of the smile disappeared from his face, which now looked drawn and almost frightened.

"Enemy? If this hasn't _at least_ made us _casual acquaintances_, I don't know what will..." Harry said, giving Draco a pointed look along with adding a subtle inflection to the words "casual acquaintances" that he hoped the Slytherin was clever enough to interpret without Harry having to explain any further because he wasn't sure if he could without giggling nervously.

"It doesn't matter what we are, Harry!" Draco huffed and ran his hands through his hair, obviously stalling. "The problem is that... I liked it too."

Harry felt happier than he had all year, but a strange thought suddenly occurred to him and he thought better to voice it. "Because I looked like Pansy?" he asked dubiously. He wondered if the Slytherin Prince had a secret kink for boys who Polyjuiced themselves to look like slutty girls. It was unlikely, but if you'd asked Harry a day ago if he thought he'd ever sleep with Draco Malfoy, the answer to that would have been "it's unlikely" as well.

Draco took a breath and gripped the edge of the table once more. "No, because the whole time, I was _pretending _she was you anyway," he said through teeth gritted with effort: Never before had he opened up quite like this, and here he was spouting his innermost secrets to the person he was supposed to hate.

"Instead of her face, I saw yours. Instead of her mouth, I tasted yours. Instead of her body, I felt yours. Harry, I've never had sex with anyone but you."

At first, Harry understood that to mean that Draco had been a virgin until last night. But after seeing the look on Draco's face -- terrific shame almost to the point of being physically sick -- Harry understood: When Draco looked at his partner, any partner, he only saw Harry. The Gryffindor's insides warmed at this sentiment. It was good to know that all those adoring looks Draco had given him last night really were for him and not for Pansy after all.

Draco shook his head and buried his face in his hands as if he couldn't bear to look at Harry. "What is my father going to say?" he groaned, his voice muffled.

Harry snorted. "Your father can go fuck himself." Draco's hands fell slowly and he stared at Harry as if seeing him for the first time. The Gryffindor felt slightly self-conscious at the other boy's unabashed astonishment, but he continued like he was used to people looking at him like that. (Which, as someone famous, he should be, but it always unnerved him to be stared at and it was something Harry thought he'd never get used to.)

"If you're happy, then who cares what he thinks? ...This _does _make you happy, right?" Harry added timidly.

"Well, I can think of a few things that would make me happier." The beginnings of a smirk appeared on Draco's lips. He stood and walked over to Harry casually, stopping a few feet away. To Harry, the distance felt like miles. If he had been bolder, he would have attacked the Slytherin's face right then and there. Apparently, Gryffindor courage only applied when battling evil.

Harry choked on a breath he had been drawing in and tried not to cough. "Like what, for example?" he asked, attempting to sound seductive, but instead sounding more like he had a severe respiratory problem.

Draco's simper became a full-fledged leer and Harry felt the crotch of his pants tighten. "This..."

He crossed the distance in one step, his hands moving around Harry's waist in the same instant that he pulled the smaller boy's body against his. Their lips met without hesitation, but only for a few seconds, much to Harry's disappointment. Draco drew back, but was still very close: Harry could feel the blonde's breath on his lips as he exhaled.

Draco laughed and licked his lips. Harry could barely feel Draco's tongue against his mouth. "Sorry... Snogging boys is still a bit new to me..." Harry had to smile through his disappointment that the kiss had ended so suddenly. "How am I doing?"

"Just fine." _More than fine... _Harry wanted to add.

This time it was Harry who leaned forward and connected their lips. He reached up and wound his arms around Draco's neck and ran his fingers through the Slytherin's soft, blonde hair, remembering just in time that he didn't like to have his hair pulled. He twirled a lock around his index finger instead, eliciting a heavy breath and almost moan from the other boy.

The Slytherin sucked gently on Harry's lower lip then backed away, leaving Harry looking very much like a llama, mouth open, frozen in mid-kiss by the disappearance of Draco's lips on his own. He smiled at Harry -- the first real smile Harry had ever seen on the face of Draco Malfoy when the Slytherin wasn't hurting someone and enjoying it immensely -- and Harry, feeling a bit foolish, closed his mouth.

"So... does this mean we can put aside our differences and be friends?" Harry asked, more than aware of the fact that Draco's arms were still around him, his hands at the small of the Gryffindor's back and, amazingly, not straying southward.

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Hmm... I believe something like that is in order..."

Harry smiled toothily and moved closer to Draco, pressing his face against his chest and the cool silk of the other boy's striped Slytherin green tie, which Harry closed his eyes against, lest he be reminded that they were once bitter rivals. Draco's arms tightened as he hugged Harry and his head fell until his cheek was resting against Harry's unruly brown hair.

"Harry?" he whispered, his breath tickling the other boy's ear.

"Yes?" Harry murmured in reply.

"I think I'm gay too."

* * *

a/n 2: Ahh, this is a nice ending for the story as well! Thoughts? Review please! Ta!


End file.
